Yes! Why the devil hadn't he thought of that before: he wanted to cheer: Lieutenant Ramage has woken up: stand by, men: stand by Barras ... He felt a sudden elation, as though he was half drunk, and rubbed a scar on his forehead.
The Bosun looked startled and Ramage realized he must be grinning.
'Right, Bosun,' he said briskly, 'let's get to work. I want every wounded man brought up on deck. It doesn't matter how bad he is: get him up here on the quarter-deck.'
'But sir'
'You have five minutes...'
The Bosun was every day of sixty years old: his hair - what was left of it - was white. And the man knew that bringing the wounded on deck risked them being slaughtered by a broadside from the Barras. Only he hasn't realized yet, Ramage thought to himself, that now the Barras is firing only at the rigging; she's stopped sweeping the decks with full broadsides of grapeshot because she knows she's killed enough men. If she fires into the hull again the wounded below are just as likely to be hit by the ghastly great jagged wood splinters which the shot rip up - he'd seen several pieces more than five feet long.
Wounded on deck. Now for the boats. Ramage ran aft to the taffrail and peered over: some boats were still towing astern in the Sibella's wake, having been put over the side out of harm's way as the ship cleared for action. Two were missing, but the remaining four would serve his purpose. The wounded, the boats - next, food and water.
By now the Bosun was back.
We'll soon be abandoning ship,' Ramage told him. We must leave thewounded on board. We have four boats. Pick four reliable hands, one to be responsible for each boat. Tell them to take a couple of men - more if they wish and get sacks of bread and water breakers ready at theaftermost gun ports on the starboard side. A compass for each boat, and a lantern. Make sure each lantern is lit and the boats have oars. Join me here in three minutes. I am going down to the cabin.'
The Bosun gave him a questioning look before turning away. The 'cabin' in a frigate could mean only the Captain's cabin, and Ramage knew that to mention going below to a man accustomed to seeing armed Marine sentries at every gangway
and ladder when in action, to stop people bolting to safety - oh, the devil take him; there isn't time to explain. How much will the fellow remember when he gives evidence at the court martial that always followed the loss of one of the King's ships? If they live to face one...
In the cabin it was dark, and Ramage ducked his head to avoid hitting the beams overhead. He found the Captain's desk, and was thankful there had been no time to stow the furniture below when the ship cleared for action. Now, he said, deliberately talking aloud to himself to make sure he forgot nothing: first, the Admiral's orders: second, the Captain's letter book and order book; third, the Fighting Instructions; lastly - damn, the signal book would be in the hands of one of the midshipmen, and all the midshipmen were dead. Yet above all else the signal book with its secret codes mustn't fall into French hands.
He fumbled for the top right-hand drawer - he'd often seen the Captain put his secret papers in there. It was locked - blast, of course it was locked, and he had neither sword nor pistol to force it open. At that moment he saw a light appear behind him, filling the cabin with strange shadows, and as he swung round a nasal voice said:
'Can I help you, sir?'
It was the Captain's cox'n, a cadaverous-faced American named Thomas Jackson, and he was holding a battle lantern in one hand and a pistol in the other.
'Yes, open this drawer.'
Jackson thrust the pistol in his belt and walked over to one of the cannon on the larboard side of the cabin. The carriage had been smashed by a shot and the barrel lay across the wreckage. In the light of the lantern Ramage was startled to see the bodies of three men - they must have been killed by the shot that dismounted the gun.
The American came back carrying a bloodstained handspike, the long wooden bar made of ash and tipped with a metal shoe, used to lever round the carriages of the guns when training them.
'If you'd hold the lantern and stand back, sir ...' he said politely.
He swung the handspike so that the shoe smashed the corner of the desk. Ramage wrenched the drawer open with one hand and gave the lantern to Jackson.
"Hold it up a bit.'
He pulled the drawer right out. On top of several books and papers was a linen envelope with a broken seal. Ramage opened it and took out a two-page letter, which was headed 'Secret' and signed 'J. Jervis'. They were the orders, and he put them back in the envelope and tucked it into his pocket. He glanced at the books, the first of which, labelled 'Letter Book', contained copies of all recent official letters received in the Sibella and all those written. The second, labelled 'Order Book', contained copies of all orders the Captain had given and received, except, probably, the last one from Admiral Jervis. Next came the Captain's Log - usually little more than a copy of the one kept by the Master.